


Taphophobia

by VastDelusion



Series: Spooktober [5]
Category: Lore Podcast (Podcast), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Armed Detective Agency (Bungou Stray Dogs), Buried Alive, Cemetery, Dazai-Typical Suicide Attempts (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Engagement, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, M/M, Omniscient Dreams, Port Mafia (Bungou Stray Dogs), Soukoku | Double Black (Bungou Stray Dogs), Spooktober, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Taphophobia, Temporary Character Death, Wakes & Funerals, implied engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDelusion/pseuds/VastDelusion
Summary: Taphophobia (n) : The fear of being buried alive.Osamu Dazai was dead; it was a fact that Chuuya Nakahara couldn't wrap his mind around. The bastard had actually done it. While he knew it wasn't because he didn't love Chuuya, it still destroyed him.---------------------Grieving for the loss of his lover, Chuuya has a strange dream.
Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Series: Spooktober [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920424
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Taphophobia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting this series of mini-scary stories including a bunch of pairings. If you have a pairing/prompt you want to request, comment it and I'll get to it in a timely manner. Thank you for reading!
> 
> (Also, this is my first published Soukoku work, even though I have a full-fledged, multichapter fic in the works.)

Osamu Dazai was dead; it was a fact that Chuuya Nakahara couldn't wrap his mind around. The bastard had actually done it. While he knew it wasn't because he didn't love Chuuya, it still destroyed him. The bandage-wasting device had finally succeeded in his suicidal whims, without a partner, as odd as it sounded, and he left everyone with a hole in their hearts, no matter how much they claimed to hate him. He could tell Kunikida was almost as upset as he was. 

He loved him, and now he was gone. The idea that hurt the most was that he didn't even get to share his final moments in this life. He didn't get to say goodbye. 

They stood around the fresh hole in the ground, a solemn, distraught tinge in the air as Dazai's coffin was lowered into the grave.

The funeral was the worst event Chuuya had ever experienced, and if what the Christians said about hell was true--if he went there, that is--he was sure he'd be living that moment again and again. His love was torn from him, and he didn't know what to do. 

Kouyou stood beside him, dressed in a flowing, black gown with a black veil covering her eyes. She placed a thin, delicate arm over his shoulders, and it broke the dam. Tears flowed uncontrollably down his cheeks, his throat feeling as if it were filling with sand. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't breathe. All he could do was stand there as Dazai was separated from him indefinitely with Kouyou silently comforting him. 

It was worse than all those times he left before, because this time, he would never come back.

The funeral was over, but Chuuya stood over his grave, staring down at the disturbed dirt as if mere will would bring him back into Chuuya's arms. As if he would break from his casket and emerge from the dirt like in one of those old Western movies, but the dirt remained still, and his heart remained broken.

It began to rain once Chuuya decided to turn and leave, to head back to his empty apartment that will now always seem that way. The engagement ring on his finger was now left without a promise or intention, and it would always remain. 

Whoever said, "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." was full of shit. If he had never loved, he wouldn't have felt this ache in his heart, the hole inside of him that could never be filled. 

The sun had descended behind the horizon, and Chuuya's nightstand was covered with crumpled-up tissues. He was going through Dazai and his texts that they shared over the time they were together. His vision was blurred with tears, and he wondered if they would ever fade. If the pain would ever dull in his chest and he would finally be able to function. 

Kouyou, Akutagawa, Mori, Gin, Tachihara, Kaiji, Higuchi, and even some members of the ADA sent him their condolences. It wasn't as if their relationship was low-profile, seeing how Dazai pranced around in his office, informing everyone about every little detail about Chuuya--which gave him a fluttery feeling in his gut, now that he thought about it--but it still felt like a lot. He felt grateful, knowing he wasn't alone in his grief.

After a while of scrolling through his phone, all his crying drew sleep to his eyes. He went through his regular, nightly routine, the only change being Dazai not standing behind him while he brushed his teeth and did his usual skincare rituals, and unwrapping Dazai's bandages from his arms and pressing kisses to every little scar he encountered. What he missed the most of all, however, was the warmth of Dazai's body against his as they peeled back the covers and burrowed into bed, their limbs wrapped around the other tightly, as if afraid they were going to leave. 

Chuuya wished he held Dazai more tightly. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have committed suicide and left Chuuya all alone. 

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.

Behind his eyelids, all he could see was darkness. It felt as if he was trapped in something, with barely enough oxygen to breathe, and hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds preventing him from escaping. He pressed his hands up against the lid of whatever held him and tried to budge it. While a seemingly stupid notion, his desperation, as well as his need to breathe, was escalating quickly. He squirmed and thrashed, screaming for anyone that could hear him, but his screams were swallowed up by his container. 

Then, his point of focus changed. He was looking down at Dazai thrashing and clawing at the lid of his coffin, the six feet of dirt atop of him preventing his escape and holding him captive. He screamed for help, but no one came. 

Chuuya woke with a start, processing his dream. It felt so real, as if he were watching it--or experiencing it first-hand. 

It made sense to him. It _was_ real. It had to be. Why else would he dream of it unless his love was in trouble? He pulled on his shoes and a jacket before making his way to the cemetery in which Dazai was buried, the cold, bitter rain assaulting his chilled skin. 

He pressed on through the heavy rain until he found Dazai's plot, then his grave. The grave looked still, untouched by anything except the elements. But, he knew it was happening. He knew he was fighting for his life in that coffin beneath his shoes. He touched the dirt with his gloved hands and closed his eyes, sending all of it flying into the air like a giant geyser. He peered down into the hole, and he heard the cries. He was still alive, but his voice was hoarse and quietened from the soreness of his throat and lack of oxygen. 

He drew the coffin to the surface and tried to pry the lid open, but his fingers were too stiff from the cold. 

"Dazai! Wait just a second. I need to get this lid open." 

"Chuuya. Oh my God, Chuuya. I thought--" Dazai's voice came from within the coffin. 

"I know, I know. We have to get you out of there. I'm going to try to use my ability."

"Corruption? No, Chuuya, you'll kill yourself--"

"I'm not using Corruption, and you're one to talk about killing yourself."

"I'm alive now, aren't I? Just get me out of here, love."

Chuuya focused on the hinges of the coffin, and used his gravity manipulation to pry the heavy lid off. When he looked inside, Dazai's eyes were gleaming up at him, dark circles beneath them. He sat up, stretching his limbs and nursing his bloody fingernails. Chuuya helped him from the coffin, pressing a million kisses to his lips and holding him close. 

"Never, **ever** do anything like that again."

"Chuuya--"

"No, you idiot," Chuuya interrupted, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes, "I thought I lost you. It was the worst _fucking_ thing I've ever felt. If you try to kill yourself again, I'm leaving you. Seriously." 

Dazai just smiled and held Chuuya close, pressing his nose to Chuuya's russet hair and inhaling deeply. "Okay. Noted." 

Once they got home, Chuuya called everyone and told them the events that had just unfolded. Despite the lateness of the hour, they all hopped in their cars--or whatever form of transportation they wanted to use--to go and see him. 

Dazai made some rearrangements with his living will, wanting to be cremated instead, with his ashes to be intermingled with Chuuya's when he died. Chuuya criticized him for waxing poetic, but he didn't refuse. 

As Dazai held him close that night, Chuuya never wanted to be released. He wanted to stay in Dazai's arms for the remainder of eternity. 

He wondered what would have happened if he dismissed the dream, or if he didn't have it at all. Or, if he was just a little too late digging up Dazai's grave. The sight of Dazai's bloody fingernails from scratching at the lid of the coffin, his face warped with fear. He burrowed deeper into Dazai's chest at the thought.

He fell asleep to the sound of rain pattering on the ground outside, protected from all the terrifying aspects of the world by the man lying next to him. If he didn't sleep soundly for a while, Chuuya would understand, as they both developed a new fear that night: the fear of being buried alive. 

Which, as Chuuya discovered a few days later once the story hit the local presses, was known as taphophobia.


End file.
